The two Earth Level Ninth Layer martial artists are both dead, and the rest of the black-clad men on the ground are nothing but lambs to be slaughtered to Chu Ming.
Boom!
"Flying Corpse Palm!"
In mid-air, the leading black-clad man and Zhu Qianqiu clashed, both their bodies retreated simultaneously. As the black-clad man's robe billowed, his skin quickly dried up, and the dried palm print struck toward Zhu Qianqiu with black aura swirling, devouring the soul.
"No Breath!"
Zhu Qianqiu steadied his body, gripped the saber with both hands, and silently slashed towards his front, without warning. At this moment, the entire space seemed to still, and the sword aura radiated brilliantly.
Thud!
The leading black-clad man's pupils shrank; his dried palm just touched the sword aura before swiftly retreating, with crimson blood seeping from the edge of his palm.
Whoosh!
